The Road Goes Ever On

By the time you read this, 2018 will be over. Done. Final. It will have morphed into a new year with the same pace that time has always marched to. For some, this change will be celebrated, and 2019 will come in with a bang. For others, it will come with a whimper. But it will come. Time and tide waits for no man, or as Sam Cooke sang it so wonderfully: “A change is gonna come.”

For me, 2018 has been a year of change that I won’t soon forget. I won’t go into all the fine details here, but I will paint the picture in broad strokes. When 2018 started, my marriage was on shaky ground. We were hurting, but I held onto the hope that we could come out the other side stronger. What I didn’t realize then was that we weren’t just standing on shaky ground, we were standing in the epicenter of a major fault line and the Earth was about to quake.

I’ve never personally been in an earthquake, but I have seen aftermath photos and read survivor stories. As I understand it, the quake is more destructive and violent closer to its epicenter, but the shockwave rippling out can still cause destruction for miles. It can devastate cities and entire regions, and it can take years for an area to recover.

When that quake hit my marriage, I was devastated. I’m not sure that I will ever be able to properly put into words all the pain and sorrow I felt. But looking at the rubble, I knew I had a choice to make. Would I walk away from the destruction, or would I stay and clean up the debris and begin to rebuild? For me, that decision was surprisingly easy. In fact, I had made that decision many years earlier when my marriage first began with just a few simple words: for better or for worse. I made a vow to fight for my marriage no matter what the “for worse” would be.

When the worst did happen, I doubled down on that vow and decided to keep fighting for my marriage, despite how difficult the road ahead appeared to be. But as is often the case with us humans, I still couldn’t see the full picture. There were aftershocks coming, and they would be far more destructive than the initial quake. And try as I might, I would not be able to save my marriage from the destruction.

In life, we constantly have to face the consequences of our own decisions. But one of the pesky things about our “human condition” is that we are often left at the mercy of the decisions of others as well. Like it or not, the choices we make will affect those around us and their choices affect us in return. And often those we love most feel the sting of our choices more keenly. After all, they tend to be closer to the epicenter of our bad decisions. 

As my marriage ended, it did so much more publicly than I would have preferred. It quickly became apparent that the destruction would not be contained to just me. There were many close to the situation that were suddenly hurting just as much as I was, but in different ways. 

I confess though, that in the immediate aftermath, I became quite shellshocked, almost to the point of disbelief. Like many who endure similar events, I wanted to wake up to find that it was all a bad dream. I began a quiet downward spiral. I blamed myself. And though I couldn’t explain exactly why I was at fault, I knew somehow that I must be the one to blame. I should have tried harder, or done this or that differently. It was somehow my fault that I was hurting.

I also felt guilty whenever I would see others around me who were hurting from the fallout of my marriage. I believed I was responsible for their pain as well. I wanted to fix them somehow, try to make it better, but I was confident that I would only make it worse. I didn't really know how to make it all okay.

That guilt was quickly joined by shame. People all around me started treating me with kid gloves, like I was this fragile thing that was about to break. They would look at me with a sadness in their eyes and I would immediately know that they knew all about my heartache. They had front row seats to my pain. Often we try to hide or mask our pain from others, but mine was laid bare for all to see. And it made made feel ashamed.

Worse still, the people around me, would come up to me and say three simple words that cut deeper than anyone ever realized: “Are you okay?”

Spoiler alert, I wasn’t okay.

I was barely hanging on by a thread. And having every random person on the street pluck at that thread like it was a guitar string wasn’t helping. The majority of the people asking, weren’t even really true friends. Many of them were merely acquaintances who just wanted to rubberneck and gawk at the pile of debris that was the remains of my marriage.

Now don’t get me wrong. There were many people who reached out to me that do truly care for me. And even in the midst of my pain, I could tell the difference between those who really cared, and those who just wanted fodder for their gossip. I will forever be grateful to those who were genuinely there for me and who helped carry me through everything. It is a debt that I don’t think I can ever repay.

After the guilt and shame settled in, next came the despair. I felt hopeless and I felt like a failure. I looked toward the shattered remains of my future and all I could see was the debris and the wreckage. There was no happy ending in sight. I began to question whether or not I would ever feel happy again. Did I even deserve to be happy? And after the pain and heartache I was enduring, would I ever be willing to trust someone else with my heart? And even if I could trust someone again, would they even want me? Or would everyone just look at me and see the broken, discarded mess and choose to just walk on by?

There was a thought that began to coalesce in the back of my mind. Subtly at first, but louder with each passing day. The thought that I was so broken and so pathetic that I wasn’t worth the effort to love. I had been rejected by the person on this earth who was supposed to love me most. If they didn’t want me, why would anyone else ever want me? I felt worthless and dirty.

And that’s the moment that it happened. Jesus stepped into my despair and met me there. 

I remember it very clearly. It was an afternoon in early October. I was sitting on a park bench in the quad on the campus where I work. It was oddly warm and pleasant for October, and there was a gentle breeze blowing. Everything was calm and quiet, but in the midst of that stillness, I was raging internally and questioning God. Specifically, I was asking him why he made me so worthless and so unloveable. And much to my surprise, Jesus answered.

I believe it was audible, though it might have been only in my head. There wasn't really anyone else around to hear it. If it was just a voice in my head, it definitely wasn’t my voice. It was distinct from my own thoughts and there is no doubt in my mind that it was Jesus. But it wasn’t an answer that I was expecting to hear. What I heard was this:

“I’ve been rejected too. I know exactly what it feels like.”

I was suddenly reminded of the story from the Book of Mark about the rich young ruler and how he walked away from Jesus. And more than that, I became acutely aware that every single day, there are countless people in the world who still reject Jesus. As I sat there pondering it, God began working in me to piece my heart back together again. I could feel the despair starting to lift. 

You see, when Jesus chose to take the form of a man and step into this world, He didn’t do it half way. He was fully human and he felt every sting this world has to offer. He knew the sorrow and the hurt of betrayal and rejection. And it didn’t make him worthless or a failure, and it wouldn’t make me one either. Sitting on that park bench, Jesus reminded me that I was worth something to Him, and that my identity lies in that truth, and not in the rejection and pain I was feeling.

On that simple October afternoon, God began a good work in me. And he will be faithful to complete it. He has already been tremendously faithful with it in the months since then.

The events of this year could have destroyed me, but they didn’t. I should be feeling hopeless, but I’m not. The truth is I find myself feeling more hopeful now than when 2018 began. I could have taken the path laid before me and let myself become angry and bitter. Instead, I chose healing and forgiveness. After all the times Jesus has forgiven me, who am I to withhold forgiveness from others. Forgiveness is not an easy road to take, but it is worth it. Trust me on this one, because I took the road less traveled by, and that has made all the difference.

For now, I am embracing being single. I don’t know if or when I will find love again. I am open to the possibility, though I am not actively seeking it. But I can say one thing with absolute certainty. When love does come calling, I will embrace it with an open heart, because I have not let the pain of this past year shut down my ability to love or my willingness to trust people. When I do chose to share my heart with a woman, she will get a heart that is whole. It will have some scars, but it will be whole and strong.

And even though the journey ahead now looks nothing like I thought it would, I have come out of this year stronger. Not in my own strength, but in God’s. I don’t know what 2019 holds, but I am excited to walk the path God has for me. He has a good plan for me, and He has a good plan for you as well.

       The Road goes ever on and on

       Down from the door where it began.
       Now far ahead the road has gone,
       And I must follow if I can,
       Pursuing it with eager feet,
       Until it joins some larger way
       Where many paths and errands meet.
       And whither then? I cannot say.

       - J. R. R. Tolkien (The Fellowship of the Ring)